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tamingthemuseTitle: Character Sketches
Fandom: Original
Prompt: Alignment
Warnings: None
Rating: G
Summary: Five drabbles about five characters of five different alignments.
Lawful Good: Phoibe
She spends a solid week, once, trying to convince herself that Actaeon is cute. She's not sure what's involved, exactly, but she kind of narrows her eyes and presses her tongue against the roof of her mouth and thinks over and over muscles carved out of a living oak, which she read once in one of the books she's not supposed to read, and seems like the sort of thing you should think about a cute boy. She also stares at his rear end, because she's pretty sure is involved, if you listen to the bigger girls. Never does work.
Lawful Evil: Zoe
The money's good, and it lets her get in touch with nature. At the time, that was reason enough for her to take the job. Actually, the nature thing would have probably been enough on its own, come to think of it. Money can buy nice things, shiny blades of tempered steel and meals hot from street-carts and a little room with a balcony to take a young man back to now and then; she'd miss it if it were gone, but she doesn't have to have it. But without the trees and the endless rivers, she'd wilt and stifle.
True Neutral: Bay
Some days she can't breathe for the pain, can't think for the pain. A good day, now, is when the writhing under her skin stills enough that she knows when her son carries her out to see the sun rise and set, to enjoy the cool autumn air. Not that she can, of course -- the Holy Ones have long ago taken away that pleasure from her, taken away any touch but their own. Still, she's done the good work, and maybe she'll see a grandchild before the pain finally ends altogether. She wouldn't mind living long enough for that.
Chaotic Good: Steel
He's always loved this world, magical and endless and surprising and full of people each different from the next. When he stops being a child (and maybe this is why he stops) he discovers that some of them aren't so nice, but wouldn't it be dull if everyone were nice all the time? So when he meets a girl with a kerchief red as destiny binding her braids, and fingers like the worn bronze hand of a statue burnished by a thousand touches, and she says come with me, he comes. Never regrets it either. Regret, Steel thinks, is boring.
Chaotic Neutral: Cassandra
The coin slips through her fingers like oil, clinking and skittering. Each piece -- bronze, tin, lead -- is a perfect sphere, smooth as river-stones. She measures them out by weight, for the sake of those of her customers who like to entertain a tender conscience. Not many of them, in this line of work, but there are some, the ones who still want to lie to themselves about what it is that they do. That's never been her way, though. No, she thinks, her eyes skimming up and down the columns of odds, she knows exactly what she is.
Fandom: Original
Prompt: Alignment
Warnings: None
Rating: G
Summary: Five drabbles about five characters of five different alignments.
Lawful Good: Phoibe
She spends a solid week, once, trying to convince herself that Actaeon is cute. She's not sure what's involved, exactly, but she kind of narrows her eyes and presses her tongue against the roof of her mouth and thinks over and over muscles carved out of a living oak, which she read once in one of the books she's not supposed to read, and seems like the sort of thing you should think about a cute boy. She also stares at his rear end, because she's pretty sure is involved, if you listen to the bigger girls. Never does work.
Lawful Evil: Zoe
The money's good, and it lets her get in touch with nature. At the time, that was reason enough for her to take the job. Actually, the nature thing would have probably been enough on its own, come to think of it. Money can buy nice things, shiny blades of tempered steel and meals hot from street-carts and a little room with a balcony to take a young man back to now and then; she'd miss it if it were gone, but she doesn't have to have it. But without the trees and the endless rivers, she'd wilt and stifle.
True Neutral: Bay
Some days she can't breathe for the pain, can't think for the pain. A good day, now, is when the writhing under her skin stills enough that she knows when her son carries her out to see the sun rise and set, to enjoy the cool autumn air. Not that she can, of course -- the Holy Ones have long ago taken away that pleasure from her, taken away any touch but their own. Still, she's done the good work, and maybe she'll see a grandchild before the pain finally ends altogether. She wouldn't mind living long enough for that.
Chaotic Good: Steel
He's always loved this world, magical and endless and surprising and full of people each different from the next. When he stops being a child (and maybe this is why he stops) he discovers that some of them aren't so nice, but wouldn't it be dull if everyone were nice all the time? So when he meets a girl with a kerchief red as destiny binding her braids, and fingers like the worn bronze hand of a statue burnished by a thousand touches, and she says come with me, he comes. Never regrets it either. Regret, Steel thinks, is boring.
Chaotic Neutral: Cassandra
The coin slips through her fingers like oil, clinking and skittering. Each piece -- bronze, tin, lead -- is a perfect sphere, smooth as river-stones. She measures them out by weight, for the sake of those of her customers who like to entertain a tender conscience. Not many of them, in this line of work, but there are some, the ones who still want to lie to themselves about what it is that they do. That's never been her way, though. No, she thinks, her eyes skimming up and down the columns of odds, she knows exactly what she is.
